


He has his moments

by Dinohunter5904



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case Fic, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gavin Reed-centric, Gen, Sort Of, ish? it's mostly about him but connor pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 10:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18092858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinohunter5904/pseuds/Dinohunter5904
Summary: "It still doesn't make any sense. His knowledge is so situational and ultimately useless."Gavin is a smart dumbass and Connor is confused.





	He has his moments

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very aware that this is hot garbage, but I've been working on this way too long to not post it, so hey. This is based off of [this post](https://sexycraisinthanos.tumblr.com/post/182706458316/gavin-reed-gets-super-drunk-and-speaks-in-fluent) so uhhh, go check it out if you wanna. Also, kudos and comments are always appreciated and hope you enjoy!

Detective Gavin Reed is a peculiar human being. Not to say that all humans aren't peculiar, he just happens to be... more so than most. On the surface, there's nothing too much of note—unless you find the position of detective particularly interesting. As Connor spends most of his time with many members of the Detroit justice system, he doesn't think particularly much of it. Reed is also a fairly avid android hater and certainly loves to make his stance on them clear, but he’s softened slightly over the past few months and besides, there are many, many, vocal and avid android haters around the country and even the world, so he’s not exactly alone in that regard. 

No, it's something a bit more subtle that takes some time, spent trying to get to know the man, to pick up on. As it so happens, Connor prides himself on being observant at all times and attempting to remain on friendly terms with his coworkers.

The thing is, Detective Reed has little pockets of knowledge that spring up from time to time if given enough prodding. At first they seem like little anomalies that don't add up to much, but over time they build and lead to an entirely new way to view the man.

The first incident that brings the topic to Connor’s attention was during the annual office Holiday Party. Most androids were physically incapable of imbibing and enjoying food and drink, so Connor took it upon himself to make sure nobody was too intoxicated to make their way home. Unfortunately, one person in particular happened to slip past his supervision. Though, Detective Reed speaking exclusively in Italian while intoxicated was amusing, if not unexpected. 

After first hearing and deciphering what language was being spoken, Connor switched his language processors to Italian and got to work on wrangling the Detective. _“I wasn’t aware you drank alcohol, Detective.”_ He plucked the bottle from his hands and set it on the nearest counter. He’d be able to retrieve and dispose of it after his current objective was completed. _“In fact, you usually seem to actively avoid beverages containing alcohol.”_

Reed squinted and pointed an accusing finger at Connor, but before either of them could figure out why he did that, he lost his balance. Connor swooped underneath to catch him and sighed. It felt odd to exhale outside of his regular simulated breathing, but he and Hank had talked about him trying to outwardly express emotion more. Mostly to benefit the humans around him, but also to help Connor understand what he was feeling a little better. If he expressed what he felt like, it was easier for everyone to pick up on the social cues telling them what Connor was feeling and Connor could use his knowledge of human emotion and applied it to himself to better grasp his new feelings. 

So, Connor reasoned, he was probably feeling exasperated. Or maybe annoyed would be a better term. He thought about it while he lifted Detective Reed and looped their arms around each other in a way that would support the man. Annoyed would probably be the term Hank would use. Or maybe ‘pissed off.’ 

He paused his line of thought when he picked up on Detective Reed mumbling something. _“Family is shit, you know that, plastic?”_

Connor paused and thought about what his options were. The only families he had experience with tended to be during homicide cases or hostage situations. Though, he supposed there was one person he had who could be considered his family. Well, Hank counted too, but Sumo had his heart. _“I don’t have much experience with family, but from what I do know, it’s supposed to be… pleasant. I’m sorry that your experience with it was less than enjoyable.”_

Reed squinted at him and scrunched his nose up. _“I don't want your_ pity.” He spat out the word. It was unsurprising that Detective Reed was aggressive while drunk. Though, that could just be caused by Connor’s presence. _“Pity is such horseshit. People can't help but feel it and it just makes the people they’re feeling it for feel like shit.”_ His speech was slurred and it was difficult to make out what he said, but it was surprisingly coherent. 

Connor thought about it for a moment. His programming told him that it was beneficial to express sympathy when a person was experiencing negative emotions. Perhaps sympathy and pity were perceived differently. He’d have to research it later. As he was figuring out, humans were too complicated for things like logic, at least in reference to emotions. _“Then I’ll be sure not to pity you in the future.”_

_“Just like you plastics.”_ Reed scoffed. _“Just turn off your emotion shit when it’s convenient. Well, us flesh bags don’t get that luxury.”_ Connor rolled his eyes. Hypocrite.

While working to get Detective Reed into a taxi and home safely, he wondered whether humans would rather he pitied them or he didn’t show emotion at all. Perhaps it was a matter of personal preference. He’d have to ask Hank about it. 

The next morning, Detective Reed walked into the office chugging a huge cup of black coffee and looking positively hung over. He waited until the detective ran out of coffee to approach. _“I didn’t know you were fluent in Italian.”_ Connor said, handing him the precious coffee.

Reed furrowed his eyebrows at him, but accepted the beverage all the same. “The fuck you doing, dipshit? Glitching out on me?”

Connor squinted, confused. “You were speaking Italian at the party last night, so I thought you might appreciate it if I spoke it back. I assumed Italian is your mother tongue considering you have family from the country, but I wasn’t aware you still spoke it.” 

Reed paused for a moment before tightening his jaw and snapping. “I was born in the states, why the fuck would I need to know Italian? Nobody here fuckin’ speaks it or anything.” He turned on the monitor and pointedly turned away from Connor, clearly wanting him to leave. “Why don’t you go back to doing daddy’s reports for him like a good little robot and fuck off.”

The conversation ended with Connor stalking off in frustration and Detective Reed sitting and stewing in anger. It was becoming an all too familiar song and dance between the two.

The second time something of note happened, it was brought about by a particularly puzzling case. Connor and Hank were spending hours going over the reports, photos, and reconstructions, but neither of them came up with any new leads. An apartment filled with pigeons and strange symbols was nothing compared to this. The blood spattered walls of a single-room apartment completely covered in different sequences of numbers, scrawled obsessively in perfect Cyberlife Sans. Hank standing up and stretching, with his various joints cracking and his muscles groaning, knocked Connor out of his concentration and he dropped the photo of a thirium-covered android onto his desk.

“God, I’m getting too old for this.” Hank muttered before speaking a little louder towards Connor. “We should probably head home and get some sleep. At this point I’m not even registering words anymore and I know you haven’t recharged in a while.” He stopped himself in the middle of putting on his coat and wrinkled his nose. “Look at what you’ve done to me Connor, I’m actually suggesting we do something healthy for once.”

The partners’ snorting was echoed across the room. Connor turned to see Detective Reed at his desk, flipping through various random papers from different stacks on his desk. Organized chaos, as Hank would say. “Well ain’t that a first.” The detective snarked, before sauntering over to their desks. “What’cha guys got here?”

“Lots of numbers and dead ends, mostly. Six vic's, all android and living alone, found dead with numbers covering the walls of the rooms they were found in.” Hank sighed and ran a hand over his face. “We're thinking murder, but the only reason why we’re assuming they’re murders and not suicides is because of the similarities between the deaths.” 

“I’m assuming robocop here already figured out that these aren't random sequences, right?” Reed asked as he studied the various photographs on the tablet, swiping between each of them. 

Connor nodded. “It was one of the first things I noted. Emily, the ST600, had the Fibonacci sequence. Bryan, the WD400, had the Catalan numbers. Kennedy, the AC700, had prime numbers. The other three victims were… unidentifiable, but our best guesses are that they were an AP900, an RX300, and a WX300 model. They had the triangle, Fibonacci, and look-and-say numbers respectively. The look-and-say numbers are-”

“Where the way you pronounce the last numbers becomes the next thing in the sequence, I know.” His scowl deepened and he glanced up at Connor. “Is there any known correlation between the victims?”

Hank narrowed his eyes at him and finally shrugged on his coat. “Don’t you have your own shit to do?”

Detective Reed stopped in the middle of zooming in on one of the pictures. “I’m helping you solve _your_ case, you old fuckbag. I have better things to do, so either help me or shut up before I consider this a lost cause.”

Hank raised his hands in surrender and flopped back into his chair. Looking between the two, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, Connor finally breaks the tense silence. “Uhh, all of them lived within three blocks of another victim. Other than that, we haven’t found anything that might connect all of them, or connect _any_ of them, really. It’s… frustrating, to say the least.”

“Mmh, yeah.” Reed muttered, his eyes were back on the tablet screen. He kept muttering numbers to himself and definitely didn’t appear to be paying attention to Connor. “You do know that these numbers are wrong, right?”

If he didn’t know any better, Connor would’ve thought he shut down and restarted momentarily, but it was too short of time and since when do androids do that out of shock? He blinked a couple times as he got his thoughts in order. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hank said, expressing Connor’s sentiments almost perfectly. Though, it would be out of character for the lieutenant to not be rather crass when emotional.

Reed scoffed and rolled his eyes before turning the tablet around for Connor and Hank to see. “The 39th if you don’t count zero, but the 40th uh, whatchamacallit, not a digit…” He snapped a couple of times before waving his hand in front of his face and continuing. “Whatever, doesn’t matter, the 40th number thing in the Fibonacci sequence has some wrong digits. The actual one is supposed to be uh, sixty-three million, two hundred and forty-five thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six.”

Connor did some quick calculations and tried not to look outwardly surprised as he realized the detective was right. “Yes, your point?”

“On the wall it says sixty-three million, two hundred and _fifty-four_ thousand, _three_ hundred and eighty-six.”

Hank shifted forward on his chair and propped his elbows on his desk, grabbing the tablet and squinting at the zoomed in picture. “You sure it wasn't just a mistake? Those numbers are still pretty close.”

“Yeah, the same order of numbers, five-four-three-eight, is in a bunch of places in the other ones, too.”

“Not to mention it was written by androids, so it was likely intentional unless there was some sort of glitch. Do you think it might be some sort of calling card?”

“Maybe, I dunno.” Reed shrugged and started to walk back to his desk. “I just know the numbers.”

He heard Hank snort from across their desks and grabbed the tablet from him, studying the inaccuracies. “Man, since when is Gavin fucking Reed better with noticing numbers and patterns than you are?”

That little four number code actually ended up blowing the case wide open. It had been the date of all the androids’ activations and as it turned out, the same day that the technician responsible for the murders had been fired from Cyberlife. The day after the investigation was officially closed and a court date was being set, a steaming cup of coffee sat on Detective Reed’s desk when he arrived.

The third time something happened, it actually resulted from Connor’s attempt to question him about how he had known so much about those number sequences. When he had walked over to the detective’s desk, he noticed a couple of Rubix cubes under the stacks of papers piled on them. When he’d asked about them, Reed had grinned like Christmas had come early.

Connor was really glad that Hank was out buying lunch for them at the moment.

After that point, Connor kept a file full of the various bits of strange knowledge that Reed knew. On a few more special occasions, it even featured explanations of how _specific_ his knowledge on certain topics was. During a strange conversation that was started by Hank mentioning Broadway at work, Connor learned that if you asked Detective Reed about who sculpted Mount Rushmore, he’d inform you that it was Gutzon Borglum, but his son finished it. When asked _where_ the monument was, he’d reply with something along the lines of “I dunno, Texas or something? Who the fuck knows that?”

"It doesn't make sense!" He’d raged to Hank a few nights later. "He knows so much yet he's so, so-"

"The kid’s a dumbass, but he has his moments, I'll give him that. Fowler probably wouldn't keep him around if he didn't." He sipped on some pineapple soda as he watched the frustrated Connor pace around the living room, carefully watching his solid yellow LED to make sure it didn't fall onto the wrong side of orange. Connor huffed.

"It still doesn't make any sense. His knowledge is so situational and ultimately useless. Did you know that he keeps two Rubix cubes on his desk in the hopes that someone will ask him about it and he can put on a show about solving it in increasingly impractical ways? Apparently in my case, it even extends to challenges."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "And you accepted?"

"I won, of course. But," Connor looked down at his hands. "He was so fast, Lieutenant."

After snorting the soda out of his nose, Hank made him swear, both secrecy over the incident and that he would never talk about Gavin's "weird shit" around him again.

Several more incidents were quickly added to the list. He seemed to think nothing of discussing the Hegelian Dialectic or casually mentioning Immanuel Kant. After a very boring snowy day, Connor learned that Detective Reed can and will win any word related game you throw at him, even if he never seems to use that vocabulary anywhere else. Well, as long as those games were against a human; though, he did still prove to be a surprisingly formidable opponent.

One particularly interesting development arose when Connor and Detective Reed had been undercover and attempting to infiltrate a drug ring. Things had gone south and their covers were blown. With no immediate means of escape, the two had turned to the gang members’ modes of transportation and run.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Reed muttered through his laboured breathing. “Plastic, furthest to the right!”

Connor snapped his attention to the car he was talking about and a short overview of information about it popped up in the corner of his vision.

_Owner: John Beretta_  
Model: 1993 Chevrolet Impala  
License Plate: AOC-1306 

As they were still running up to the car, Reed angled his elbow and rather than slowing down, rammed it into the driver’s side window. He hissed in pain, but unlocked the door and got in. In almost one fluid motion, Connor was over the trunk and opening the passenger side door, sliding into the front seat. He watched as Gavin pried off a panel under the steering wheel. He heard the sparking of wires and bullets pinging against the trunk. Gavin’s head was already down, focusing on the task at hand, so Connor ducked as low as the car allowed and didn’t flinch as hard as Detective Reed did when the back windshield shattered. He growled and looked back to try and find the man responsible before returning to the wires and muttering. “Jesus, they trying to get me electrocuted or something? I haven’t done this in a while, you know.”

“I think they’re trying to do a bit more than electrocute you, detective.” A couple sparks later and the car roared to life. Reed barked out a victorious laugh and shifted the car into gear, carelessly backing up and then, as soon as it was angled towards open space, gunned it.

There was a faint shout of “hey, that’s my car!”, but Connor was too busy adding ‘Hotwiring’ to the file while fixing the nicer-than-usual tie in the rearview mirror.

After a while of this, Connor was getting frustrated. Despite the impressive work he'd seen from him before, he’d also seen Detective Reed use a calculator to make sure he was adding five and twelve properly. That, and to spell out several words and laugh to himself about them. Not to mention Connor would need to borrow several other people’s appendages to properly count how many times he had seen Gavin run into glass doors, though that said more about his eyesight and lack of caution than knowledge. 

Eventually, Connor decided to get to the bottom of why he has such a large yet specific knowledge.

At first he considered trying to question him or Hank again, but he’d made a promise to Hank and every time he tried to ask Gavin about it, they ended up off topic and Connor was never able to ask what he had intended to. So, he turned to his coworkers.

The first officer he had approached about his issue was Chris Miller, who had dismissed it, telling him that “Gavin’s a weird dude. He’s an ass, but a damn good detective and can be a pretty good guy when he tries to be.” He winced after that. “Sorry, don’t mean to rub it in your face or anything. I’ve tried talking to him about his weird thing with androids and he just tells me to fuck off, so uh, yeah.”

Connor waves him off. “It’s alright, officer. As long as he doesn’t hinder our work together, I try not to pay him too much attention.” His current mission sort of contradicts this, but what Chris doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Well, still. Don’t feel too bad about him, and he ever crosses the line and gives you some shit you can’t take, feel free to come to me or any of the others. I know Anderson would probably beat him to a pulp before any of us got the chance to mediate, but it’s worth a shot.” Miller laughed and Connor got a strange tight feeling in his chassis, but brushed it off.

“Thank you, the sentiment is appreciated. Have a good rest of your day, officer.” Connor left the conversation feeling lighter, despite his annoyance at being unable to find anything new about Detective Reed. He felt assured that one of the other officers that had spent more time with Reed would be able to give Connor more of an explanation.

As it turned out, everyone that he questioned gave him the same sort of response as Officer Miller. Gavin seemed to have a bit of a reputation as an “asshole-genius type” around the precinct. Connor was just about to give up his search for answers when he saw a vaguely familiar face from across the bullpen.

“Officer Chen!” He called as he made his way over to her, where she appeared to be on her way to the break room. She gave him a small wave and a tired smile as she walked over the the old coffee machine. When he stopped by her side, she spoke to him while making herself a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Connor. I assume you want me for something?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me?”

“Sure kid, ‘bout what?”

“About Detective Reed.” She raised an eyebrow at him at that. “I noticed you spend quite a bit of time with him while you’re both on break, so I was wondering if you could inform me about certain things I’ve been wondering about.”

“Uh, yeah, but if this has something to do with the little pissing contest you and him have going on, I’m not gonna tell you much.”

Connor frowned. _Pissing contest?_ “No, I just noticed that he has some very… situational knowledge and I was wondering if you knew anything about why and how he knows some of it. Nobody seems to notice or question it, but as I mentioned, you spend a significantly larger time with him than anyone else I know here, so I thought you might know something.”

“Oh yeah, he’s like that. Great with book learning type stuff, not so great with common sense- or people, really.” Officer Chen sighed after she poured her coffee and realized there were no sugar packets left. “Whatever, he'll have some when he gets here.” She muttered to herself before walking towards her usual table and sitting down. “I can't speak much for his personal life or anything, not that I would tell you his life story for him anyway, but he's been like that as long as I've known him. He's been at central since the academy, so I've known him for a while. Is there something specific you wanna know about or nah?”

“Oh, actually, I have a list. I can keep this brief if you would like, though.” He mentally pulled open the file and started marking the more interesting instances.

“Yeah, he should be getting here in a few minutes, so you might wanna hustle.” She took a long sip from the steaming cup and winced a little. “Alright, hit me with it.”

“Do you remember the case that was assigned to Lieutenant Anderson and I a couple weeks back involving various number sequences?”

“Oh yeah, with the weird codes written all over the walls. Gavin helped you solve that one, didn’t he?” She was looking up and to the left and picking at the cardboard.

“Correct. He was actually the one to notice the dates in the sequences. I was wondering if you knew how he could do that?”

Chen sipped her drink and contemplated for a moment before her eyes widened and hummed. “Oh yeah, I remember. God, okay, so the guy got transferred to East a few years back, but when Gavin first got here there was a guy in IT that was _super_ hot.” She laughed and set the cup on the table so it wouldn’t spill when her gestured got more exaggerated during her story. “And I mean like, smoking. So when they started talking and got to know each other, he learned that McHottie Pants was super into number and stuff. Which I mean, surprise surprise, he’s in IT, but Gavin was determined to impress him.”

“So, Detective Reed memorized all those sequences to impress him?”

“Yeah. Granted, he was just a regular officer back then, but he’s always been weirdly good with numbers and stuff.” She took another sip and calmed down a bit. “Sucks though ‘cause he then thought it’d be a great idea to try and show off to the guy and- wait no, I promised I’d never tell another living soul. Point is, hot people can get folks to do dumb shit.”

Connor desperately wanted to know what happened, but reasoned that it would be inappropriate to ask, so he moved on to the next topic. He debated asking about the Italian, but it most likely had something to do with his childhood, so it would be futile to follow that line of questioning with Officer Chen. “Do you know why he’s so proficient at solving Rubix cubes?”

“Oh, he’s really good at solving puzzles in general, which makes sense considering he’s a detective, but I guess he used to go to those speed solving competitions when he was younger. You should look up a video sometime, it’s pretty cool. But yeah, he did the same thing to me when I asked about it, only without making me embarrass myself in front of everybody.” She laughed.

“The last one I wanted to know about was if you knew why he can hotwire cars? Considering he was born in 2002 and cars became nearly impossible to hotwire in 2004, I found it… odd.”  
She raised an eyebrow, scoffed at him, and took a sip. “You think it’s weird because of the dates and not because he’s a cop?”

She had a point; it was suspicious considering the activity was most associated with auto theft. He was about to say so, but then he remembered what Detective Reed had said while doing it and something Hank had told him when they first met. Not to mention that knowledge possibly saved both of their lives that day. Connor opened and closed his mouth a couple times before finding the words he was looking for. “When we first met, Lieutenant Anderson told me that people do what they have to in order to survive. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He shrugged. “And, he did save us from being shot, so I can’t condemn him for that.”

Tina let out a breath and smiled. “You’re a good kid Connor, you know that?”

Connor smiled back. “So I’ve been told.”

She picked at her cup again. “I don’t really know much about it since that was definitely before he joined the academy, let alone the DPD, but from what I gathered over the years, he didn’t really have the best childhood. It’s not my place to speculate, but he probably learned young.” She settled back in her chair with her body language closing off, signifying the conversation was over. “Alright, you done picking my brain now?”

Just as he was about to confirm that he had gained all he needed and leave, a voice interrupted. “Trying to steal my coffee partner, Barbie?”

All traces of a smile gone from his face, Connor rolled his eyes and faced the detective. “I'm not 'stealing’ anything, detective. People are not property and therefore cannot be stolen. Besides, we was just talking and I was about to leave.”

Reed scoffed and started pouring himself some of the still-hot coffee. “You know I wasn't being literal, asshole. It's metaphorical or an idiom or something.”

“Whatever it is, Connor was just leaving. So, see you around.” Tina gave a small wave and while normally it would've felt dismissive, Connor could tell she was just trying to keep the two from escalating the situation. Unfortunately, Connor had something he needed to do.

“Actually, before I leave, I just wanted to thank Detective Reed for his help during the Johnson case, as I never properly did so. We likely never would have noticed those numbers if you hadn't pointed them out. So, thank you.” He stepped forward and held his hand out to shake.

Gavin stilled at the extended hand, coffee cup in hand. Steam was escaping through the hole in the cover. When he had been more machine-like in nature, Connor wasn’t really programmed with the idea of when to give up. There were many times that his lack of self-preservation and need to accomplish the mission was only stopped by Hank physically holding him back. Deviancy had given him a new way to view the world through emotions, and those emotions were starting to tell him that if something didn’t happen soon he might just have to shuffle off and give up on this endeavour entirely.

Then, Reed cleared his throat and made a show out of his reluctance to shake an android’s—and very specifically, Connor’s —hand before, a little too firmly, grasping his hand. His audio processors faintly picked up on Officer Chen letting out a breath a little harsher than usual out of relief and Connor felt very much the same way.

After a very awkward amount of time holding each other’s hands, Detective Reed let go and stomped over to his normal table next to Officer Chen, grumbling about “fuckin’ androids.”

“I look forward to working with you in the future, detective.” It wasn’t a joke, but Connor still found this whole interaction funny. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Reed rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever plastic. Can you fuck off and bother Anderson instead of me now? I don’t want to frolic through the fields of friendship with you, so why don’t you just…” He waved his hand vaguely in a dismissing gesture. “Piss off, or whatever.”

Connor scoffed, but not necessarily in an aggressive way. Mostly just humorlessly at the weirdly funny lengths that Detective Reed went to in an attempt to appear standoffish to everyone. “I am not seeking ‘friendship’ with you, Detective. ‘Begrudging alliance’ would be a more appropriate way to describe it.”

Reed rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his coffee, making a low sound of disgust in his throat when he realized there was none left. He set the empty cup on the table, making a sort of hollow, echoing sound. “Whatever, Ken Doll. You stay out of my way, I stay out of yours.”

Connor got up from his seat and made his way to the door. “That is all I wanted from you,” He paused in the wide doorway and turned his head just enough so that the detective could see the side of a cheeky grin. “By the way, I’ve got to ask. An anonymous source informed me of an incident with a computer consultant for the DPD and I was wondering if you could tell me what had happened.”

He heard the sound of a take-out coffee cup getting crushed. “I’d call you a dick, but you don’t have one!”

The android turned around and continued walking backwards towards his desk while flipping him off with both hands.

“Connor, Reed! Get back to work!” Fowler ordered from the doorway of his office. He then muttered to himself, but Connor’s audio processors could only pick up the beginning of the sentence before the captain shut his door. “Absolute children…”

“What was that about?” Hank asked.

Connor took a seat at his desk and smiled. “Nothing, just trying to get to know Detective Reed better. Do you know anything about an incident a few years ago involving him and a computer technician?"


End file.
